Broken Heart
by Dizzy Rockerson
Summary: Takes place in the summer after the finale. I had liked the Grilled Cheesus episode, but after Blaine had been introduced, I had wished he had been there to comfort Kurt. So that's what I'm writing here. A hurt/comfort story. Lots of Burt & angst. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

"Warbler Blaine, you are the sweetest of sweet," Kurt Hummel said as he accepted the handpicked dandelions his boyfriend, Blaine, had grabbed for him from the yard a few feet away.

"What sort of gentleman would I be if I showed up to my date's door without flowers?" Blaine asked, with a bit of cheek.

"Not a very good one at all," Kurt scoffed. "And who said chivalry was dead? Pshaw!" He clucked his tongue and moved aside to usher his now chuckling boyfriend into his home. It was summertime, and the couple had spent every extra spare moment they had, together. Granted, it wasn't a lot of time. They were forced to spend a decent amount of time apart as well, what with Blaine working at Six Flags as a performer, and Kurt composing the next great musical (Pip Pip Hooray), so when they did get to be together, they made the most of it.

Today was just a causal meal at home with the Hummel-Hudson family - nothing fancy. The couple had long since left the need to go all out every date, and instead, had learned to simply revel in each other's company.

"Dinner's not going to be for another hour or so," Kurt told his boyfriend. "Longer if my Dad manages to burn everything and Carole has to take over. Let's go up to my room."

"Ah, Mr. Burt Hummel is still trying to become America's next Top Chef," Blaine said knowingly. "To your room it is." He started toward the stairs without direction, having gone this way a thousand times over. The other boy followed close behind, dandelions still clinched tightly in his hand.

Once in the room, Blaine collapsed onto the bed like he owned the place, and then scooted over to make room. Kurt left the door open just a smidge, in order to obey Burt's "Door Stays Open When the Boyfriend is Over" policy, before also climbing onto the bed.

"It's good to see you," Blaine said once they were both situated properly – Kurt's head resting on Blaine's chest as Blaine himself laid flat on his back, his head propped up on the a couple pillows.

"You too," Kurt murmured, his eyes closed, just taking in his surroundings and the boy who was now absent mindedly running fingers through his hair. This week had been particularly stressful for both of them. Blaine was overworking himself in his performances, and Kurt had hit a nasty bout of writer's block in his composing. Their late night phone calls had consisted of mostly just Kurt ranting about lack of inspiration while Blaine tried not to dose off. It was good that they finally had a chance to see each other when they weren't in high stress. It was summer, after all.

They lay like that for quite some time, silent and peaceful, when Blaine took hold of one of Kurt's hands and began kissing his fingers. Kurt's face went scarlet instantaneously out of embarrassment… and maybe a bit of a flush from the physical contact.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Blaine's grin was so big, Kurt could hear it.

"I'm kissing my boyfriend," he said simply, placing a few more tiny kisses on Kurt's fingertips. "Whom I love dearly and haven't been able to see in what feels like forever."

Kurt pulled his hand away, but before the other boy had time to object, he turned himself over and grinned. "You make a pretty good casse, Blaine Warbler." Blaine laughed.

"Anderson, Kurt. You do know that, right?"

"Of course."

"Just checking."

They both laughed some more, and Kurt leaned over and kissed Blaine like, well, like he hadn't been able to do so all week, during a time when he really could of used it. Needless to say, when he pulled away, Blaine looked a little windswept, and he mumbled,

"God. You know, you've got wonderful hands, Kurt, don't get me wrong, but kissing them certainly doesn't measure up to kissing you like this."

"I should hope so," Kurt scoffed, and he was about to say something else snarky, but Blaine shut him up with another kiss. It was longer this time, and even more passionate. They leaned to each other, embraced one another, and soon found themselves rolling around on the mattress, sheets and comforter getting tangled up around them, as they changed positions, Blaine now pressing the weight of his body down on the other boy with purpose and heated aggression. He took both of Kurt's arms and pinned them down.

They pulled apart a little bit, enough for them to make eye contact, and for just a moment, they listened to the other breathe, deep and heavily, their chests rising and falling against one another. Blaine then leaned down and kissed once more, but soon left Kurt's mouth and traveled to his cheeks, to his neck, and to his collar bone, where he sucked and kissed the other boy's fair skin. He bit the area gently in a tiny love bite, and reveled in the way Kurt squirmed. He then pulled away, respectfully.

Kurt lay there a moment, and then pulled himself up so that he was sitting. They untangled themselves from the web of blankets, and Kurt's now-free arm reached up and mindlessly felt where Blaine had been but a minute before. He couldn't see it, but he was sure the area was a nice, obvious red, left in the shape of the very first hickey he had received from his boyfriend.

"Sorry," the other boy said sheepishly. "I got a little ahead of myself."

"Don't apologize," Kurt said with a grin, simply thankful that Blaine knew him well enough to know when to back away. It was true that he was getting more and more comfortable with the physical part of their relationship – admittedly, that had taken a lot of getting used to from a boy whose only prior experience with anything remotely sexual was being forced into a wet, painful kiss in a damp, smelly locker room – but he could now say that he enjoyed it. That said, it still was completely new territory for him, and, forever the romantic, handpicked dandelions from his own front yard meant the same to him as a hickey on the collar bone, no matter how good of a kisser Blaine happened to be. And the best part was, Blaine knew, and accepted this, and never pressured him into anything he wasn't ready for. They were working on Kurt's terms here, and for that, Kurt was grateful.

"Hey you guys!" Finn's voice rang out from down the hallway, and the boys found themselves instantly thankful that they had stopped when they did. Kurt adjusted his shirt so that his hickey wasn't showing, and Blaine rubbed the sides of his mouth. Finn knocked twice before pushing the cracked door open all the way.

"Mom sent me here to get you two. Dinner will be ready in ten."

"So Dad didn't burn it?" Kurt asked, smirking.

"Nah, but that's probably because he didn't cook it. He said he wasn't feelin' too good, so Mom did it. If you ask me, I think it was just a ploy to get out of cooking for give people."

Kurt and Blaine laughed. "We'll be right down," they told him.

"Cool." Finned turned to leave, but stopped just long enough to say, "Oh, and hey Kurt? You've got sex hair. You might want to fix that before you go to dinner." And he was gone.

Kurt went scarlet again, his hands flying to his head to smooth out his 'do, as Blaine nearly choked, he was laughing so hard.

Once they were downstairs (and Kurt's hair was appropriately styled), the two of them, plus Finn, helped set the table. Carole brought out a huge pan of vegetarian lasagna, and Burt soon joined them, looking a little pale.

"You okay, Mr. Hummel?" Blaine asked as Burt took a chair next to him and immediately reached for his water glass.

"Yeah, yeah, fine," he said, a bit absent mindedly. He grabbed his napkin and dabbed at his forehead which was shinning with sweat. No one noticed.

"The food looks magnificent, Carole," Kurt said pointedly, casting a look toward his father, who merely looked up at him and shrugged.

"Thanks, Sweetie," Carole said as she started to serve everyone.

Dinner was fairly uneventful. Finn wolfed down three helpings of the lasagna, Kurt and Blaine played footsie underneath the table, and Carole and Burt made small talk.

"You barely touched your food," she said to him as everyone, even Finn, began to wind down and throw their napkins onto their plates. Burt shrugged and wiped his forehead again. Carole gave him a look of mild concern and clucked her tongue.

"Alright then, boys help me clean the table and I'll get dessert."

'Dessert' was all Finn needed to hear. He jumped to his feet and started to pick up plates, and Kurt and Blaine soon joined in. They carried everything in and took their seats again as Carole brought out a large, blueberry cobbler, and a tub of vanilla ice cream.

"Awesome, Mom," Finn said a minute later, his mouth full of both.

"You could have the decency to at least swallow before you compliment her, Finn," Kurt scoffed, his eyebrow raised and his nose shriveled. Finn made a face at him.

"I hear it's actually polite to be rude in other cultures. Or something," he said lamely. Kurt opened his mouth to retort, but Blaine cut in.

"It really is good, Mrs. Hummel, either way," he said with his natural charm that made Carole smile warmly at him.

"Thank you," she said, shooting a look to the other two boys who looked sheepish.

A loud clatter sounded. "Oh, darn it," Blaine said, scooting his chair out. "I dropped my spoon." He took his napkin and wiped the spilled ice cream off his lap and then reached under the table to grab his fallen utensil.

"Oh, I can go get you a new one," Carole offered, starting to rise from her chair, but Blaine put up a hand and shook his head.

"No, no, don't bother. It's fine. I know where they're at. You've done plenty tonight already. I'll just go grab one." He got up and went toward the kitchen. From behind him he heard Burt tell the table,

"I'll be right back, also. I'm gonna go get another glass of water." This was his third glass.

Blaine was rummaging through the silverware drawer while Burt held his glass under the faucet. "Kurt said that they've been keeping you pretty busy over there at that Six Flags place," Burt said, making small talk.

"Yeah," Blaine agreed, fiddling with the clean spoon in his hand. "Five performances a day, plus rehearsal. It's pretty brutal."

"I've never really understood how that whole singing and dancing thing works and everything, but if they work you as much as they do in that Glee club…" he trailed off.

"It's sort of like that, only the hours are longer, they expect more out of you, and it's not as fun."

"You makin' good money?"

"A decent amount, yeah."

"Ah, well, then I bet it beats working in fast food, or something like it." Blaine laughed at this.

"Definitely."

He turned to leave the kitchen when he heard Burt let out a small grunt. He looked back over to the older man and saw that he had a grimace on his face and a hand to his chest.

"You okay there, Mr. Hummel?" he asked, a little tentative. Burt waved away the question.

"Yeah, yeah, it's nothing... nothing." He sounded unsure.

"Are you sure? Because, I mean, you've seemed a little out of commission all night. If you wanted to go and lie down or something, I'm sure the others would under-" but he never finished his sentence. Burt's hand that was covering his chest suddenly clinched and his other arm, which was holding his glass of water, dropped it, shattering the cup into several shards and spilling water all over the floor.

"Mr. Hummel?" Blaine asked, frightened. Burt's eyes widened and he looked like he was having a hard time breathing. He reached and groped for the counter, knocking Blaine's dirty spoon onto the floor with a loud clatter to join the broken glass.

Blaine ran forward and grabbed hold of Burt's sides, trying to help him keep his balance, but to no avail. Both of them lost their footing and tumbled to the ground. Blaine tried to break his fall by putting his hand down, which proved to be a mistake as his hand skidded against the floor and he ended up slicing himself on a particularly jagged piece of glass. Ignoring it, he sprang to his feet and began screaming for help.

"From out in the dining room, the other three, who had been idly chatting about summer plans and the new school year to come, heard Blaine's frantic calls and stopped their conversation dead in its tracks. All three of them dropped their spoons with a chorus of metal against glass and rushed to the kitchen where they found Blaine crouched down above and unconscious Burt, his ear to his mouth, listening for breath.

"His breathing is really shallow," he said, looking up at the other three, who were looking back in horror and confusion. "He just collapsed. He was like, grasping at his chest and having a hard time breathing. I think it might have been a heart attack or something."

Carole got into action mode right away, and bent down, moving Blaine out of the way. She looked over her shoulder at her son. "Call 911, Finn." And Finn did not hesitate.

"Right," he said, determined, and ran out of the room to go to the phone. Carole began putting her hands Burt's chest and neck, looking for a pulse, while Kurt just stood there, looking aghast and terrified, both of his hands over his mouth.

Blaine noticed this, got up off the floor, and went over to hug Kurt, who didn't return the gesture, but didn't move away either.

"It's going to be okay," Blaine whispered.

"He barely survived this last time. How can he go through it again," was all Kurt managed to say. At this, Blaine gripped his boyfriend tighter, and Kurt leaned into his shoulder, tearing his eyes away from the sight on the floor, where Carole was now performing CPR on Burt's limp body. Moving his hand up and down Kurt's back as soothingly as he could, Blaine muttered, over and over,

"I love you. It's okay. I love you. We'll get through this," because, truly, he didn't know what else to say.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Beginning Chapter Notes:**_

_**Hey there! I just wanted to point out, here, briefly, that in the first chapter, there are couple non-cannon inconsistencies, which I sort of realized after the fact. The first one being: I have no idea how shows go at Six Flags, so I kind of just made that up, and hoped it was believable. I also sort of just made up my own layout for the Hummel-Hudson house, despite how it has been shown on the show. So let's just say that, for all intents and purposes, those two things are AU, and everything else is cannonverse, because I am a boss like that. :) **_

_**Anyways, thanks for reading and favoriting and reviewing and story alerting. I do it all for you. So don't stop! :D My internet at home is broken (which is also why my first chapter had to be uploaded with such haste, with little editing, which sort of made me cringe), so I'm running on coffee house and library wi-fi, which I can only get so much of, so bear with me. I'll update when I can! At least no internet at home means I'll have more time to write because I can't be distracted by tumblr.**_

_**Okay, my chapter notes are becoming longer than the story itself. HERE:**_

Chapter 2:

This was all too familiar to Kurt. Just at the beginning of the school year prior, he had found himself in this same spot, with the same impatience, with the same fear – was he ever going to see his father alive again?

Carole was up every two seconds, making phone calls, getting cups of coffee, going to the bathroom to cry – anything to keep herself busy. Finn paced back and forth in the waiting room, unble, like his mother, to sit still. Blaine, on the other hand, had not left his boyfriend's side for anything, sitting on the rock hard bench that sat up against the wall.

All around them sat nervous looking strangers, all of them waiting for their own personal news. Some were dozing with several month old subscription magazines in their laps, some had home-brought books to show that they knew that they'd be waiting for a while. Others still were like Carole and Finn – restless beyond measure. But Kurt and Blaine noticed none of this. Hands clasped tightly together, Kurt leaning his head on Blaine's shoulder, they were in their own little world with no other people's problems to distract them from wondering – worrying – about where Burt was right now, and whether or not he'd be okay.

"I'm scared," Kurt mumbled, his voice muffled by the other boy's shoulder.

"I know it," Blaine said, as a statement. He had no way to reassure him. He wanted to tell Kurt that his father was going to be fine, but the odds, and he hated to even think this, but the odds were not in their favor. Not with Burt's health history, and how close a call it had been the last time he was here.

"Some date, huh?" Kurt joked. His voice sounded tired.

"Oh, the best."

"I'm sorry you're having to spend your one free night here."

"Oh God, don't even talk that nonsense. Nothing in the world would be able to take me away from your side right now. I promise you that."

"Good… Thank you."

"I love you."

"Love you, too."

And they continued to wait. There was a single clock on the wall. It showed the time with big, bold, black numbers, with long, equally menacing, hands. The hand that recorded seconds ticked loudly, noticeable even more so in the quiet tension of the waiting room. Tick. Tick. Tick. It felt like a form of mocking, like, every minute without and answer was a tangible, physical thing.

"You're bleeding," Kurt said suddenly, lifting his head up, startling Blaine.

"Huh?"

"You're hand."

Blaine looked down at his left palm where he had sliced it on the glass back at the house. There was a considerable amount of dry blood surrounded the wound and a little bit of fresh blood leaking from it. In all the commotion he had forgotten about it, but now that Kurt pointed it out, it began to sting substantially.

"It's nothing," he said, trying to dismiss it, but Kurt took his injured hand and examined it.

"God, Blaine, that's deep. What happened? Why didn't you say something?"

"I cut it on a piece of glass. It really isn't that big of a deal, you know… given the circumstances…" but Kurt wasn't hearing him. He still had a tight grip on his hand and was looking at it under the upmost scrutiny.

"Do you think you need stitches?" The other boy sighed.

"No. No, Baby, stop it." He took his hand back and put his clean hand on Kurt's face. "Listen to me. I know you're afraid, and I know you feel like you should be doing something, but focusing your energy on this dumb cut isn't going to fix anything. I'm fine, okay? And unfortunately, I'm just as helpless as you. The most we can do is sit here and hope for the best." He fell into his mentor-mode automatically, although his tone was still loving. "No matter how much we both want to fix this."

"…Just promise me you'll have a doctor look at that soon?"

"If it'll make you feel better, sure."

"It would."

"Then I will."

Kurt snuggled back up against his boyfriend, resigned and tired. Blaine wrapped his arm around the other boy's shoulder again, and noticed that he was shaking. "Shh," he whispered. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

They sat like that for who knows how long, the tick of the wall clock continuing to be obnoxious. Finn had finally stopped treading the floor, and Carole had resigned to sitting anxiously in one of the uncomfortable, plastic, waiting room chairs, wringing her hands. Finally, a woman in a long, white doctor's coat, holding a clipboard, came out and read, "Hummel family?"

Carole jumped to her feet instantaneously, and was closely followed by Finn, Kurt, and Blaine. As he had the first time this had happened, Kurt blurted out, "Is he okay? Is he dead?", which made Blaine tighten his grip on the other boy's hand and made Carole briefly close her eyes in a cringe.

"No," the doctor said, causing a silent pause for relief amongst the family. It wasn't for long, however. The morose expression of the doctor's face was nothing short of disconcerting.

"Where is he then?" Finn asked. The doctor flipped a page up on her clipboard, read a little bit, and then told the family,

"It is a similar situation as the last time he was hospitalized for a coronary embolism. The blockage to his heart caused a depletion of oxygen in his brain, causing him to go into a coma. Whether or not significant brain damage has been done remains to be seen. All we can really do is wait and see if he wakes up.

"Unfortunately, due to his prior health history, and the considerable size of the heart attack, we fear his chances are much lower than they were last time."

There was a pained silence, and out of nowhere, Kurt blurted out, "But he's been eating so much better! He's even been exercising! How could this happen? Why?"

"There are any number of reasons, I'm afraid. The best answer is that his cholesterol simply hadn't lowered enough yet to prevent this from happening. It's not a nice answer, by any stretch, I know."

"Can we see him?" Carole muttered.

"Of course. Follow me."

The doctor led them from the waiting room, Carole at the lead, followed by Finn, and then Blaine and Kurt who were still attached to one another as if they were physically designed to be that way. The maneuvered through the hallway, which smelled distinctly like disinfectant and that other scent which could only be described as "sick person". They were taken to the end of a long corridor, to a door on the left, and were ushered inside.

Burt was in there, lying on the bed, and the sight wasn't pretty.

The man, whom just a few hours earlier had been alive and (seemingly) well, was now there with what seemed like a million tubes running from every inch of his body, hooked up to various machines that did God knows what, while the heart monitor beeped almost as obnoxiously as the waiting room wall clock. His eyes were closed, with no sign of movement or consciousness behind them. His breath was very rhythmic, almost timed, and it seemed almost manufactured.

In short, Burt looked like he was dying.

"Jesus," Blaine muttered. He had never seen Kurt's father look so helpless before. The other three, however, who had seen Burt lie like this the last time this had happened, simply looked at the man with sad expressions, never wanting to have to see this again.

Carole turned to the boys. "There really isn't anything you boys can do here tonight," she said to them. She reached in her pocket and then handed her car keys to Finn. "Why don't you go home and try and get some sleep."

''We don't need to leave," Kurt objected, not wanting for a second to leave his Dad's side, just in case he woke up… or the alternative.

"I don't want you sleeping here, sweetie," Carole told him. She looked at him, but her eyes looked a million miles away. "It'll be alright. Just go home and try and get some sleep."

"Come on," Blaine whispered into his boyfriend's ear. "Let's let them be. We'll be back first thing in the morning, okay?"

Kurt still didn't want to move, and when he did it was with much reluctance. Finn didn't say anything. He just left the room, jingling the keys in his hand, and looking at the floor. Kurt looked back at his father, whispered, "I love you, Dad," and let Blaine lead him out behind Finn.

The ride home was so awkward they could have sworn that they could have cut the tension with a knife. The couple sat in the back, while Finn tapped on the steering wheel anxiously, and fiddled with the radio, changing the station ever five seconds.

"Just leave it one something, Finn, please," Kurt finally spat, after the 17th station change.

"Sorry." He went to the first station without any static and left it there. There was a collective increase in discomfort when they all realized the song was Evanescence's "My Immortal". Finn clicked the radio off entirely and muttered something about not wanting to listen to music anyway. The other two did not object.

Back at home, Finn went and collapsed on the couch, flipping on a game, in order to distract himself. Kurt immediately went into the kitchen and began sweeping up the broken glass, and mopping up Blaine's spilled blood that was now a long, dry line of crust where his hand had slid along the tile. Soapy water soaked up on the sleeves of his designer McQueen shirt, and when he didn't even seem to notice this, Blaine knew he was pretty far gone.

"You can leave that for later, Kurt," Blaine suggested, crossing his arms and watching the other boy clean like a madman.

"Jesus, how much blood did you lose?" was all Kurt said. Blaine sighed. He dropped out of his stance against the counter and bent down to grab his boyfriend's hands so that he would stop scrubbing. Kurt blinked up at him. He then said softly, "Dad won't want the kitchen like this when he gets home."

Discomforted from how small the other boy's voice sounded, Blaine furrowed his brow, and then lifted Kurt to his feet.

"You can leave it for later." It was no longer a suggestion.

Kurt allowed himself to be dragged away from the now half-cleaned mess on the kitchen tile, not sure where Blaine was taking him, and really, not caring. Dazed, in shock, upset, and tired, he felt like he was floating around his house, until, somehow, he found himself back in the familiarity of his bedroom. The bed covers were still ruffled and thrown about from their earlier make-out session, and on the dresser there were the dandelions, a little brown and wilted now, lying on top where Kurt had sat them. It hardly seemed plausible that that had been just a few hours ago. It felt like another lifetime.

"Come on," Blaine muttered, leading Kurt to the bed. He sat down on it obediently, but didn't say anything. He merely looked up at Blaine with a glossy look on his face, like he had no idea where he was and didn't have the effort to find out. He sat there idly while Blaine reached down and untied his shoes for him, and slipped them off. He then sat up on the bed and did the same to his own. He gently pushed Kurt to indicate he should lie down. He did, and the other boy joined thereafter. They faced the same direction, and Blaine draped a leg over Kurt's, and held him close.

"Won't your mother worry?" Kurt said in an almost Kurt-like tone. Blaine smiled softly.

"I texted her at the hospital. She knows where I'm at."

"And she's letting you stay?"

"She wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea, but she figured I would be right back here first thing tomorrow morning, and she didn't want me to have to make the commute if I didn't have to."

"Mm." Kurt adjusted himself a little and buried his face into his pillow. After a while Blaine could hear his ragged breathing, and realized he was crying. He stroked his back and "shhhed" him for what seemed like ages, until finally, Kurt drifted off into deep, dreamless sleep, and Blaine soon followed in suit.


End file.
